


Comming the DJD is Risky Business

by Hero4Good



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Betrayal, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Exhibitionism, Fondling, Getaway and Tarn being evil together, Getaway being a slut for a con, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Master/Pet, Phone Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, i suck, what can i say, why is there no pairing of them?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22995445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hero4Good/pseuds/Hero4Good
Summary: Getaway calls the DJD to reveal Megatron's position. Things get a little heated.
Relationships: Getaway/Tarn (Transformers)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Comming the DJD is Risky Business

**Author's Note:**

> I spent 3 hours writing this. It hasn't been beta read sooo if there are any huge errors please let me know yeah? Also idk I really ship these two. They are both conically evil and need a therapist.  
> Am I the first? idek.

Getaway sat sprawled in the  _ Lost Light _ ’s Captain's chair. His legs crossed at the knee, and his frame leaned to one side of the chair. After this maybe the annoying voice in the back of his helm would stop telling him what a scumbag he was. His heart of the goal was to get rid of Megatron, and anyone else was collateral. Unfortunately, he still felt a little bad for having to condemn them to death, but business was business he supposed. But after today that he could squash that little voice and move on with controlling the  _ Lost Light _ ’s crew. 

The mostly white, red, and blue mech hummed as if exhausted. All this scheming and betraying was hard work. Getaway picked his helm up from the back of the chair and looked out at the expanse of space in front of him. Those twinkling little stars glimmered like sparks in a hotspot. It almost warmed Getaway’s spark. He had been locked away in a cell, always on the verge of dying if he so much as moved, unable to see their glittering colors.

Now that thought sent a flare of anger raging through his frame. And that was another reason Getaway decided that this idea wasn’t so bad after all. A little petty revenge wasn’t completely hell condemning, was it? Getaway supposed not. 

Which brought him back to the comm link number he was on the verge of dialing. The DJD was nasty business. Any Decepticon and Autobot could wet their panels from hearing the name of the mismatch team of trained killers. Getaway was not immune to this feeling. The mechs freaked him out, but one necessary evil to another unquestionably insane evil, he could see why they did what they did. 

Getaway was like them in a way. Getting rid of traitors to his faction to better the group. He steeled himself and looked at the set of numbers on the datapad held in his lap. It had taken quite a few calls to even locate this number, and he wasn’t even sure it was still active. 

With a swipe of his digit Getaway sent the image to duplicate on a projection screen in front of him. His spark fluttered with butterflies as his digit hovered over the green call button. How should he greet the mech? Sauve? Commanding? Smugly? What if Tarn didn’t answer? 

His processor went through several different questions before he forced his digit down to hit the button. He instantly straightened, spinal column ramrod straight, before he leaned back against the chair and returned to his comfortable lounge that was now tainted with anxiety and fear. Three dots appeared on the screen, each one jumping up and down one after the other, as the call tried to connect to the receiver. 

Getaway almost decided to hang up from the constant jumping, maybe it  _ was _ deactivated- His spark leapt into his intake tubing as the screen flashed to an orange mech with optickless sockets. 

_ Oh slag, that was not something you saw everyday _ .

The mech stared at him as if wanting him to speak first, but by the time Getaway opened his intake to speak the mech started. “Do you want to be put on the list?” The mech said in an extremely dry and sarcastic tone.

“I- ah- No, I’m Getaway, captain of the _ Lost Light _ and-” Getaway started after his initial shock of glaring into a face that not even a carrier could love, but was instantly cut off with a sharp growl of Kaon’s engine.

“The  _ Lost Light  _ and her crew are dead. You’re lying,” Kaon barked at him, his denta bared in a vicious snarl.

Getaway blinked before he cleared his vocal cords. “Well, yes, and no. If you’ll allow me to explain.” He said while rolling his servo. This brought a little confidence back to his pose. He knew something they didn’t. After explaining the conundrum, Kaon went quiet and looked off to the side as if he was comming someone. 

“Tarn wants to speak with you, ‘Getaway, captain of the  _ Lost Light _ ,” Kaon spit out before getting up from his seat and leaving the room through a set of sliding double doors. 

Getaway shriveled slightly, the little banter he had got going with Kaon had brought back that smug, smirking self that everyone knew, but the prospects of talking to the devil himself made Getaway’s pedes curl. He had to come up with a strategy for the conversation and as quickly as pos-

The doors in the background opened revealing a tall, broad chassis-ed, purple tank, whose servos were clasped behind his back. Tarn’s burning optics looked at the mech in the screen of the  _ Peaceful Tyranny _ ’s control room with peaked interest. That look had Getaway’s pede swaying in the air to hide its trembling and his digits nervously playing with the edge of his datapad. 

Tarn remained silent as he sauntered forwards his slender hips thrown into each step, now those drew Getaway’s optics away from those fire optics to silver hips. Tarn stood in front of the camera, willing the webcam to go to his height while standing. 

_ That’s a power play _ . Getaway thought as the Decepticon emblem shone at him darkly. 

“You’re a brave mech, Getaway.”

_ Holy Slag, was that his fraggin’ voice?! _ Getaway’s spark skipped a beat. He didn’t imagine it would be so baritone and smooth. Sure, the pictures he had seen of the mech made him look regal and elegant, but  _ that _ was his voice. No,  _ no _ , he was  _ not  _ getting a hard-on from this!

His derma moved before he could think of a good response, spilling out a, “I have a proposal for you.”

_ Dammit, Getaway! This isn’t going to go well if you act like you’re talking to a halfwit. Tarn is cunning, get your processor in the game. _

From behind his mask, Tarn’s optical ridge quirked while a warm chuckle dripped from his derma. “Straight to the point are you? Well, I’d just… die to hear what such an interesting mech has to say to little ol’ me.” He rumbled his voice pitching and making Getaway feel like Tarn was standing right next to him. 

“Megatron-” Getaway snapped, only to have Tarn’s calculating optics go wide and treads visibly flare out. 

“Do  _ not _ speak that name if you want to live through this call.” Tarn ordered, his voice stabbing into Getaway’s spark and making him jerk back in his chair.

Oh, Getaway so wanted to hang up right there, save his hide, but he had to soldier on through this, for himself mostly.

“I have Megatron’s location.” Getaway blurted his pedes coming uncrossed as he planted his pedes on the floor and sat upright digit hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

Tarn’s optics darkened in a promise of bodily harm to the Captain. “You are a  _ liar _ , Getaway.” He hissed his biolights pulsing with building anger. “You thought  _ you _ , an Autobot, could con a Decepticon? I’ll particularly enjoy cutting  _ your spark  _ out and feeding it to the Pet while I crush  _ your helm _ under my pede.” He all but roared, steam rolling out of his vents.

“No! No wait, Tarn, I proof I know where he is!” Getaway said while he scrambled on the datapad to pull up video proof that Megatron left with the other ‘traitors’ on the ‘Rod-Pod’. 

Tarn’s derma twitched as he tried to control his temper, he would allow the Autobot this one chance to save his plating. But if he proved that he was indeed a liar, Tarn was going to hunt the mech down and show him _ just why  _ everyone feared the DJD. 

Tarn’s optics darted to the corner of the touch-screen he was stationed in front of, where a little pop up video came. He gave Getaway a sharp look before dripping down out of the webcam view to click on the file. He silently watched Megatron board a ridiculous looking ship with other Autobots and even Cyclonus. 

So the ‘Bot wasn’t lying. Tarn licked over his sharpened denta as he slowly stood up his weight shifting to and fro as he stared at the slightly cowering mech. 

_ Pathetic, cowardly… helpful little Autobot _ . Tarn’s optics turned from cold to sultry. “It appears my anger was misplaced, please forgive me,  _ Getaway _ .”

If Tarn saying his name didn’t send a pang of lust to Getaway’s spike and valve, Getaway would  _ then  _ be a liar..

“N-no, really I understand the hatred for traitors, but I’ll send you the coordinates of the planet they are on, and all you have to do is turn  _ all  _ of them to dust. Then I’ll be out of your plating,” Getaway said his throat dry while he typed out the coordinates and sent them to the mech.

Tarn watched the mech, optics dipping into his curves and angles. He wasn’t entirely bad looking for an _ Autobot _ . His helm tilted to the pop up saying he received a typed message, but his optics remained locked to Getaway’s golden face mask. He wondered what the mech was hiding. A scar perhaps? No dermal plating and just an intake? 

Getaway looked up from the datapad and locked optics with the mech, which had him freezing in place. He really needed to hang up and go solve the little problem in his panel. 

“Well I should hang up so you can get to your plundering and pillaging…” Getaway said hoarsely while looking away from the screen his internal fans turning on with a hum. 

“ _ Getaway _ , look at me,” Tarn rumbled huskily making said mech slowly turn his helm to the mech again, his thighs pressing together slightly. He really hoped his panels wouldn’t leak. 

“ _ Good boy _ . Now why don’t you take off that face guard and we can see what pretty faceplates you’re hiding, hmm?”

Getaway felt mortified, his faceplates growing hot and red as his knees rubbed together. He could easily turn off the transmission and rub one out in the privacy of the control room, but having someone so.. So infamous and powerful right there… Getaway reached up with shaken servos to unlock his mask from his helm. 

He didn’t have any major scars or problems with his faceplates, but it was easier to hide one's emotions behind a mask. He set his mask to the side revealing a golden, slender face tinted red with a blush. 

Tarn hummed in approval, pinging his teammates to leave him be for an hour or so and to not come into the control room for anything. He sat down in the ‘Captain chair’ of the  _ Peaceful Tyranny _ , readjusted the webcam, and propped his ankle a top his knee. He steepled his digits under his chin with a smirk. 

“What a handsome visage, all flushed and bothered, aren’t you,  _ Getaway _ ?” Tarn asked while cocking his helm.

Getaway was usually the one sweet talking others, so he wasn’t quite prepared for the compliment. He cleared his throat and ducked his helm slightly. He should really hang up.

“Not used to being complimented?  _ Oh how very unfortunate _ . A mech with such an intelligent mind deserves some praise,” Tarn murmured with as much of a pout as he could muster with a mask.

Getaway’s vents hitched. Was he really getting off by someone praising him? His vocals glitched as he squirmed to get comfortable in the suddenly rigid chair. 

“Uncomfortable? Why don’t you hook your knees over the arm rests and lean back, hmm?” 

That didn’t sound like a suggestion… Getaway gulped looking at the mech as he chewed on his lower derma. Maybe this was getting out of servo? But those red optics staring at him, oh… those pierced his spark and made him  _ want  _ to give the Con what he wanted. 

Getaway let go of his denta worried derma and slowly leaned back spreading his legs and hooking them over the armrests. His panel was in full view for the DJD’s leader, and this position in general made Getaway feel exposed and dirty. 

“Oh so good, boy. Are you so wanton as to spread your legs for my humble optics? For a Decepticon no less? Tsk tsk. I can almost see the gleam of lubricant on your panel seam.”

Getaway’s fans kicked up a notch as he glanced down the angles of his frame to his grey panel. Indeed there was the reflection of magenta fluid seeping through his panel. Oh his anterior node and spike ached to be fondled. When did he become such a wanton slut for a Decepticon?

“You seem quiet, Getaway? Cybercat got your glossa? Or do we just need to open you up a bit more?” Tarn questioned his talons tapping against each other his optics roving over Getaway’s panel. 

Getaway got the hint and let out a nervous chuckle. That was a big step, but when had he ever taken small ones? His panel snapped open with a click, spike jutting out, yellow node blinking, and valve lips puffy with a sheen of fluid over them. 

“Aren’t you a pretty thing. Port so needy and wet for a mech not even there.” Tarn sighed as if he was a parent scolding his child. “Why don’t you rub your little node for a bit.” 

Getaway sat and listened to the mech, valve growing slicker and slicker with each word. His digits jumped at the permission to touch himself, because that’s what it was wasn’t it? Tarn was in charge here, as much as Getaway hated being an underling, he couldn’t really say no, especially when his valve wanted something in it. 

His thumb circled his node before pushing on it and rubbing it quickly. Almost instantly a quiet moan left his throat. Why did everything feel ten times more sensitive? 

“Good boy, now give your port exactly what it wants. Spread your folds let me see inside that dirty, whoring valve.” Tarn growled out, the display in front of him was doing more than buzzing him with pleasure. If his raging hard-on was anything to go by.

Getaway began to grow louder with moans and blissful gasps as he instantly pushed two digits into his slick enough valve. They scissored outwards as he roughly thumbed over his node, and his spike bobbed with his hip jarring rolls, transfluid slipping down the shaft.

“There’s your voice, you just needed some encouragement.” Tarn rumbled a servo leisurely stroking his proportional length. “You don’t care if anyone hears you do you? Maybe you want someone to see you fingering yourself in front of me? Maybe join in?” 

Getaway let out an especially loud groan as he shoved his digits as far into his valve as he could. He nodded at the statement his glazed over optics watching two blurry orbs of red. 

“Oh, that’s true is it? You naughty little Autobot. Go on add a third or even a fourth digit to your port, stuff yourself.” He hissed while rubbing a thumb over the top of his spike head. 

Getaway whined as he added a third digit his valve noisily sucking on them as his other servo locked itself around his throbbing spike. He pumped both servos in a fevered pace. He wanted, no,  _ needed _ to overload. His fans buzzed loudly through the room as a puddle formed under his aft. 

“Please, Please! Let me overload! Tarn, please please!” Getaway broke and started to beg near incoherently, his array a mess of fluid.

“No. Not until I do, you wanton whore.” Tarn hissed while he started to pick up the pace in jerking his spike off. “You will not overload until your master does, do you understand? Or do you want to disobey? To make me upset with you? To punish you?” 

Getaway shook his helm while he bucked into his touches, not knowing when he added a fourth digit to his valve. “No Please! M-Master I don’t want to be punished!” he choked out, drool dripping down his chin as he threw his helm back, overload dancing along his spike and valve. 

“I’m almost there, pet, hold on for a few more moments,” Tarn grunted out as he squeezed his spike talons scraping along the length, pre-fluid spurting from the tip. He took a few pictures of Getaway’s stuffed valve and saved them to a folder that he used in his free time, before he snarled in pre-overload bliss.

His spike exploded in his servo, transfluid covering his servo and chassis as he pumped up and down. He forced himself to watch as Getaway whined and cried for release, his vocals sharp as he said, “Go on slut, overload for your master.”

Tarn leaned back with a sigh, enjoying the high of overload while he watched the show on the screen. Getaway jerked eagerly into his servos before his back arched like a bow and fluid spurted from both his valve and spike. Transfluid painted his chassis and faceplates as his valve dripped onto the already large puddle under him.

“Look at the mess you made, tsk tsk.” Tarn purred, though he couldn’t really talk, seeing as he had silver streaks on his treads and mask as well.

Getaway shakily pulled his legs off the armrests and sat up his optics overly bright and servos withdrawing from his array. He looked at the mess and flushed as his fans began to slowly turn off. 

He cleared his throat and willed his voice to return. “Ah yes, well it’s been awhile… but I believe we have an agreement?” He asked in a small but steady voice, his optics looking at Tarn’s painted mask.

Tarn smirked his optics narrowing with the grin. “Of course, the Autobots will be crushed, and I believe I will be seeing you in the near future, Pet.” The transmission ended with a small ‘ _ cccrrsstt _ ’ and the screen returned to the dial menu. 

Getaway sat in surprise. His optics blinking. Tarn didn’t mean… Oh Getaway was in over his helm. He should have hung up… but where’s the fun in that?


End file.
